the art of drowning

[response to a prompt on tumblr; the prompt was ‘lose myself in you’]

someone once told me – possibly my swim teacher –

that it’s less likely you’ll drown,

if you know how to swim.

I don’t know about the death rate,

but I can confirm, it’s such a lie;

as a child, I learnt them all: freestyle, backstroke,

breaststroke, and butterfly,

yet given the chance – just a single glance –

I drown in you.

not by choice

[this one just happened… even I’m not sure what it’s about, so don’t worry if it doesn’t make sense]

if I did not choose you
and you did not choose me
any more than either of us choose to bleed,
then why does it hurt when we choose not to see
that we’re both colouring each other shades of raw
in the half-light of dawn,
plummeting naked into the waves
of each other’s eyes?

 

#poem: email

Sometimes I just sit here,

waiting to be noticed by you

‘s ok, I guess

(no one ever sent an urgent email)

 

Sometimes I’m spam

to be discarded, bypassed,

without a second glance;

not even a second chance.

 

yet it hurts the most when

you treat me as if I carry a

lethal virus – the system-crippling kind –

and avoid me completely,

when all I really need

is high priority

small creatures (1)

I met a spider today.

she refused to tell me her name

– a name is most sacred to a spider –

but, scuttling across my desktop,

barely bigger than a freckle,

gazed at me with all eight eyes

and imparted a wisp of

something wise:

 

‘the universe can be huge,

(it is expanding after all)

but you and only you

can make you feel so

very

very

small.’